


A Thousand Suns

by dracoqueen22



Series: Seireitei Monogatari [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For many, the war ended with Aizen's death. But for Kisuke, the war has just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anthem of our Dying Day

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written back in 2011-2012. It doesn't take any of the recent events in canon into account and is especially AU before the end of the Butterflaizen Arc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The betrayal you can see is trivial. What is truly fearsome is the betrayal you don't see.

The sword whips through the air. Kisuke feels his feet locked in place. Try as he might, he can't seem to get them to move. He can only watch.

Blood falls, dripping to the ground. A building dissolves into nothing as a powerful attack rips through it. Crimson clashes against soft blue. And beyond it all, brown eyes look over everything dispassionately.

This is the end that he has wrought. This is what Sousuke wants.

Kisuke can't seem to make himself move. There's something pulling and tightening inside his chest, gripping where it refuses to let go. It rises to the forefront of his mind, flashing across the back of his eyes. Too many images for him to ignore. Too many memories and too much pain.

" _So you're Urahara-taichou."_

_He turns to see the lieutenant of the fifth behind him. Kisuke smiles in greeting._

" _Evening, Aizen-fukutaichou. I could have sworn we were formally introduced once upon a time."_

_Those eyes, shaded by thick and clunky glasses, met his stare evenly. "Formally, yes. Informally, no." He bows softly, leaving Urahara to politely return the gesture, before offering him a hand. "You wouldn't happen to be free tonight?"_

" _Oh?" Kisuke asks with a tilt of his head._

_Aizen's fingers are soft, despite what must be years of swordwork, and the hand lingers longer than seems proper. An even more understanding_ _**"oh"** _ _reverberates through Kisuke's being._

" _I might happen to be," he adds a second later._

_And Aizen-fukutaichou smiles._

He's not smiling now. In fact, Kisuke isn't sure what to call the expression on Sousuke's face.

Victory?

It shouldn't be, but perhaps it is.

Judging by the destruction, by the bodies that lie in various states of injury around him, maybe Sousuke already thinks he holds his victory. Trampling over the corpses of his loyal Espada. Paying no mind to the former allies he has dispassionately watched fall.

Kisuke finds it incredibly difficult to reconcile the person before him now and the man so bright and consuming in his memories.

_Hot kisses trail down his throat, and Kisuke gasps. His fingers dig deeply into Sousuke's back as the vice-captain pushes against him again._

" _Ah, harder," he urges, body surging forwards to further prove his demand._

_Sousuke chuckles. And the low sound echoes in the room and pours into Kisuke's ears like auditory sex._

" _Any harder and I might break you, my dear."_

_It doesn't sound so bad, the blond thinks to himself. But all that emerges is another moan as Sousuke's lips cover his, muffling the sound. Kisuke shoves his tongue hungrily into the brunet's mouth, and their tongues engage in a hearty duel. The vice-captain tastes of honey and lemon, both flavors in that tea he's always drinking, and Kisuke fears that he's drowning in that familiarity._

It is that familiarity which left Kisuke so blind. He hadn't been able to see it. He never saw Sousuke for his true face. Perhaps the man had wanted him to. Maybe he had been subtly trying through the length of their relationship. And maybe Kisuke had been too caught up to even notice the signs.

The smell of ash and smoke tastes so bitter on his tongue. Kisuke doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the bitter, copper stench of blood. His chest squeezes, reiatsu swamping the area with a force so powerful he still doesn't know how he's standing. Benihime rattles at his side, desperate to join the fight, and Kisuke watches.

He doesn't move, just watches as another falls. As Shunsui struggles to pull himself to his feet and Yamamoto's fire burns away another illusion. No one can see Sousuke for his true position, but unerringly, Kisuke's eyes find him every time. Or maybe it's not even his eyes that can see it. Maybe it's something else entirely.

_Glasses clink together, the joy of the evening permeating the entire atmosphere. Kisuke grins as he downs the first shot and feels the pleasant burn._

" _Happy birthday!" his friends chorus around him._

_But Kisuke's eyes are only for Sousuke, who is both patient and indulgent as he sits beside the twelfth division captain._

_And beneath the table, Kisuke feels their fingers briefly clasp, a promise for something later. As the others in front of him exchange jokes and more alcohol is passed around the table, the brunet leans in close. His breath is a warm brush across Kisuke's ear that makes him shiver. To anyone observing, it would just look as if Sousuke is nearing to combat the noise level. It seems innocent._

_Only Kisuke knows the truth. Especially when Sousuke's lips brush against his ear ever so lightly, making a low heat pool in his belly._

" _I left your present in your quarters."_

_Kisuke drinks deeply from his bowl, hoping to blame the heating in his cheeks on the alcohol. It also helps to conceal his lips._

" _Then I'll have to make an excuse to skip out on the party early, now won't I?"_

_He is treated to another of Sousuke's smiles, the kind that turns up his lips and makes his eyes sparkle behind those glasses. He draws back, putting a proper distance between them, one that can't be misconstrued as anything else. The promise remains in his expression though, and Kisuke looks eagerly forward to tonight._

Reiatsu swirls around him, cloaking his body in his own power. He rises in the air before he entirely realizes what he's doing. His eyes are for Sousuke alone, paying no mind to the struggles of the Shinigami around him. Their faces have blurred to him, becoming nameless. He knows they are allies. Some even friends. And few of them are Vizard, those with equal stakes to his.

Kisuke sees none of them.

He focuses on the Sousuke that he is certain is the true one and not a fake reflection of the overlord. He can't explain how he knows. At his side, Benihime rattles, and Kisuke feels her hilt in his hands before he remembers drawing her. The swelling within him increases and knocks at the bonds of bone.

Broad shoulders… oh so familiar. Brown hair that waves in the wind, not quite the same style but still similar. Reiatsu that floods over Kisuke's entire being, much more powerful than he remembers but still familiar. His heart tries to shove him back to a golden past, but all his mind remembers is one bathed in crimson.

_Sousuke stands there like an entirely different person as the wounded bodies of_ _their allies –_ _**their goddamned friends!** _ _–_ _paints the ground a garish shade. He defends Kisuke's attack so easily, as if swatting away a nuisance. Just a fly buzzing around his head._

_Kisuke doesn't recognize him. He doesn't know this man at all. Doesn't recognize the dark eyes or the soft brown hair._

_His gaze unerringly finds Hiyori's battered form before they return to Sousuke. The words that pass between them are inconsequential compared to the feeling that tears through his entire being._

_And Kisuke just stands there as Sousuke lies, betraying everything that they've shared. Dismisses it as though it is nothing. And perhaps it is. Maybe it is an illusion like everything else. He doesn't move, doesn't think to move, until Tessai yells at him. And the two differing kidoh clash in a dazzling display of sheer power._

_When the lights fade and the power diffuses, there is nothing but empty space before them. Nothing marks where Sousuke had stood, cruelly betraying_ _ **everything**_.

Benihime sings as she stabs through the air, faster than Kisuke can think and faster than anyone realizes his presence. The white back in front of him doesn't remain white long as crimson spreads across the pristine fabric, like a scarlet flower in snow. And Kisuke's fingers tremble around the hilt. His whole body shakes. And he can't tell if his vision is blurring because of the pain or if it's another reason entirely. Kisuke doesn't even know if it's anger anymore or sadness. The feel of his soul shattering.

His zanpakutou slides free with a sickening sound, audible even above the noise of battle, not that Kisuke hears it anymore. To him, there is nothing but silence as Sousuke gradually turns, his startled gaze falling on Kisuke. More blood paints the front of his outfit – the complete opposite of a Shinigami's black.

There is surprise there. And yet... not surprise, too. Expectancy. As though he has been waiting for this.

Around them, the illusions vanish, and the surprised Shinigami are left swinging at empty air before realizing there is no enemy to fight. And dark eyes are locked on Kisuke as Benihime dangles loosely in his grip, blood dripping down with a sound that never happens because the ground is so far below them.

"Kisuke." His voice is stronger than it should be for the hole in his belly.

"Don't call me that," Kisuke returns.

And he is horrified by the tightness in his voice. By the feeling that grips his vocal cords and squeezes his lungs until he's gasping for breath for a reason he can't comprehend.

"You have no right to call me that. Not anymore."

The words aren't what he wants to say, but he keeps the truth locked inside of him anyway. He wants his secret to remain a secret, now and forever. Kisuke wants – no, _needs_ – for it to end like this.

Sousuke lifts a hand, and Kyouka Suigetsu isn't even in his grip. Kisuke can't remember him dropping her, but his eyes refuse to leave Sousuke's face to check. Reiatsu surges as the Shinigami surround the two of them, clinging to life, desperate to end this war. There's no escape for Sousuke, and even he knows it.

The injury is critical but not life-threatening. It won't immediately kill him, but he'll die if he's not treated. Kisuke knows better than to expect the Shinigami to rush to take care of the wound. Not with all the death and destruction Sousuke has wrought. No, they are planning to deal the final blow here and now.

The hand stops inches before Kisuke's face, but the gesture is all that's necessary in the end. Kisuke doesn't move, towards or away from Sousuke's fingers, even if every fiber of his being seeks to close the gap. Once again, he's paralyzed.

"It wasn't an illusion," Sousuke murmurs, those brown eyes softening for just a second.

And in an instant, something inside Kisuke snaps. He can't call what emerges from his lips a scream, but he isn't sure what it is either. Whatever those emotions are churning inside of him, they erupt until something in his chest explodes with the tension. One foot slides forward, and Benihime lifts, slashing through the air quicker than anyone can follow. Faster than anyone can stop him.

He isn't even sure he's hit his target through the blurring in his eyes. And Kisuke can't breathe; he's choking on air. He only knows the harsh smell of blood and the bitter taste of betrayal. He only knows the last glimpse of dark eyes that in his madness seem ringed by clunky, outdated glasses and brushed by loose strands of brown hair. He only sees a smile that's genuine. Only hears words that whisper ever so softly in his ear in the dead of night when he is presumed asleep and no one else is listening.

" _Only you."_


	2. Tomorrow in a Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisuke recalls the past, even as he wakes up in the present, fighting a future he doesn't want to see.

_Sousuke laughs as Kisuke glares, offended._

" _It's not strong enough to eat through wood," the blond denies through clenched teeth._

_Amusement dances in brown eyes as Sousuke pushes his cup of tea far away from him. "Well, it's certainly not palatable, my dear. No wonder everyone in your division refuses to allow you anywhere near the kitchens."_

_Kisuke huffs, indignation crowding in on him. "How the hell do you know about that?"_

" _I have my ways," Sousuke teases and leans across the table, casually pushing aside Kisuke's cup, too. "From now on, I'll do the cooking, ne?"_

" _You're only saying that out of self-defense," Kisuke grumbles. He tries and fails not to be swayed by that easy grin and their growing proximity._

_Sousuke chuckles again, a sound Kisuke will never tire of hearing. "I happen to value my life, yes. And my sense of taste." He leans closer, breath a warm puff against the captain's lips. "You can't blame me for that, can you, Ki-kun?"_

_He answers by closing the distance between them, sealing their mouths together. Sousuke makes an aborted noise of surprise before deepening the kiss. Washing feelings of happiness threaten to warm Kisuke through and through, but he doesn't dare get ahead of himself. Not just yet._

Kisuke opens his eyes to stare at a white ceiling, one he hasn't seen for nearly a century. He recognizes it immediately – the fourth division – and judging by the aching in his body, there's no surprise as to why he's there. He doesn't recall getting injured, but then, there's a lot of things Kisuke can't seem to remember at the moment.

How did he get here?

"I brought you. On my back, of course, so I'd like to get a little gratitude when you're done losing your mind," a voice cuts in, effectively answering what Kisuke had thought to be an internal question.

His head tips to the side, and he's greeted with a familiar face. It – he – lacks in its usual playful grin but is familiar nonetheless.

"Shinji?" Kisuke murmurs quizzically, and his friend looks scarcely better than Kisuke himself must at the moment. Bandages cover his body in various locations, though they look more healed than recently earned.

"So you _do_ remember who I am," Shinji says with a raised eyebrow and slouches back in his chair. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

Kisuke tries to move, to sit up against the headboard. But every muscle screams a protest at him, and he collapses back against the mattress. His brow furrows, mind still fuzzy.

"Why wouldn't I remember?"

"You couldn't seem to earlier," Shinji answers easily enough and lifts one hand to showcase the thick bandages that encircle his wrist. "Took me and two others to take you down."

Speechless, Kisuke can only stare. "I--"

Knocking interrupts what is sure to be a confused stutter. Kisuke's eyes flicker to the door where a boy hesitates in the doorway, one who he doesn't recognize.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the young man says with a deep, formal bow that makes something inside Kisuke curdle with unease. A tattoo arches from one eyebrow. "But I was hoping to thank you, Urahara-dono."

This is said to the floor, his face still parallel to it. And something inside Kisuke churns. He knows why the young Shinigami has come. But he honestly doesn't want to hear it. Thank kami that Shinji is there. He handles it with a finesse that Kisuke can't stomach. Not when just the thought of accepting someone's gratitude makes him want to vomit violently.

He can't bear to look at the boy. And so Kisuke doesn't, the hands in his lap clenching into fists as Shinji and the brat trade polite conversation.

"Somethin' any of us would've done," Shinji says, bullshit pouring from his lips as easily as truth. "Your gratitude's appreciated though."

The unidentified boy says something else, but Kisuke isn't listening. His ears are buzzing, roaring. And something a lot like a scream burbles up inside of him. Only he closes his mouth on it. Lets his fingers curl into tighter fists. Bites his tongue on the irrational response until he feels the bitter taste of blood.

" _I don't see why you're making a big deal out of this, Sou-kun," Kisuke mutters._

_Agitation is in every step as he jerkily scrubs a cloth over one dirty dish and then another. Clean-up has always been his duty since Sousuke does the majority – okay,_ _**all** _ _– of the cooking._

" _I don't see this as something to be ashamed of," the blond adds, gesturing with a soapy spatula and making the suds flick through the air. They miss his lover's toes by a few inches._

_Sousuke shifts back a step to the safety of the doorframe and leans upon it. Kisuke can't help but think that the downturn to his lips is rather sexy. Even as he whirls back around towards the dishes, scrubbing harder than needed._

_The shifting of cloth indicates Sousuke folding his arms over his chest. "I never mentioned being ashamed of anything," he says carefully, slowly. As though speaking to a particularly obstinate child, and Kisuke_ _**hates** _ _it when he gets that tone in his voice because isn't he supposed to be the elder here? The captain?_

_But sometimes... sometimes, Sousuke gets that look in his eyes that speaks of years beyond Kisuke. Years that he never asks about because he wants Sousuke to tell him when he wants to do so and not because Kisuke is curious. It's times like those that the blond wonders just what it is Sousuke's hiding, and surely, it can't be that bad. It's not like it'll make Kisuke immediately stop caring for him; he's in too deep for that. Too deep to do anything but spend the rest of his days with this man and still not have that be enough._

" _Don't even think about citing regulation at me," Kisuke warns and glances over his shoulder. "That rule's centuries old, and no one follows it. Otherwise, Isshin and Byakuya-bo both would've never been born, and you don't see anyone making an issue of that. You're not even my fukutaichou or in my division at all. No one cares about it but you."_

_One dark eyebrow arches. "Yamamoto-soutaichou is able to bend the rules where you and I cannot. And the Kuchiki have always done as they wished," Sousuke says, as if that should be explanation enough. "But no, I wasn't going to bring that up. I simply believe in keeping private things private. I do not…" He pauses and shakes his head. "I'm not Kyouraku Shunsui. I'm not comfortable with public declarations."_

_Kisuke shoves a pot through the rinse-water and sets it out to dry with a loud clunk. "I'm not asking to make out in public here, Sousuke. Or that you announce it from the water tower. I only want to be able to share a meal, somewhere other than here, and not have to worry if I'm doing anything improper."_

_Without having to worry about keeping random strangers and not-so-strangers from making eyes at them is what he really means. One of them in particular._

_And it frustrates him that he can't say what he wants to say without sounding juvenile. That he's tired of the looks that Sousuke's kindness and handsome features garner. Or that he hates lying and saying there's no one special at home when there_ _**is** _ _. And above all things, Kisuke hates denying what Sousuke is to him. Hates having to smile and politely decline at all the offers thrown his way. Hates having to hide and think up excuses. Hates having to pretend that there is anyone but the man before him._

"Kisuke?"

Shinji's voice breaks through the fog of his memories. He emerges as though rising from the deep, from icy and black water, gasping for breath. Crescents are visible in his palm, and Kisuke forces his fingers to unfurl.

"I want to see him," he says then, tone flat and without inflection.

He barely notices that the Shinigami left at some point. Or that Shinji has risen to close the door, barring any further chances of gratitude. Kisuke doesn't want them and never will.

Shinji looks at him from his bedside perch. "You know better than that," he returns, quieter this time, voice full of understanding.

He's the only one who knows. Surely, others have guessed, but Shinji is the only one who _knows_. The only one who ever saw.

And while he knows about the pair of them, he doesn't know all of it. Doesn't know that they couldn't go days without the feel of other, sometimes not even hours. That they made love slowly during the summers and as fast as they could stand during the winter. That sometimes, it was like the world was on fire and would consume them both. And others, it was like they had all the time in existence. That there would never be anything else but the feel of their bodies sliding together, the warmth of Sousuke's weight pressing him down, and the buzz of their reiatsu as it twined together.

He doesn't know that Sousuke tasted of mint and that the spot behind his ear was particularly sensitive. That his hair was soft and silky as it slipped through Kisuke's fingers. That he knew all the important dates in Kisuke's life and why they were that way. That no matter how many women – or men – approached, Sousuke only ever had eyes for him. That in the end, Sousuke didn't fight back.

Shinji knows. But he doesn't know a damn thing at all.

"The Shinigami wouldn't have allowed anything of Aizen's to exist," Shinji says, and Kisuke belatedly realizes that he's been talking this entire time.

Shoulders slump that he hasn't even realized are held in the first place. A bit of energy slips out of him like the helium in a balloon as he sits slack against the headboard. The tightening in his chest increases like a vise has gripped his heart. Again, the taste of bile rises into the back of his throat, teasing his tongue. His stomach roils and tosses; his nose twitches with the scent of spilled blood.

All imagined of course. But he can feel it on his hands. Hot and bitter and so damn hard to accept.

Shinji sighs, sounding torn between a rock and a very hard place. One filled with jagged spears and serrated edges and molten lava beneath his feet.

"And don't let anyone see you with that look either," he comments. "They won't understand. They think you're a hero."

"I don't feel like one," Kisuke mutters, dragging his dry tongue over dry lips and trying to stop the rampant heaving in his belly. "I didn't do it to save everyone."

The chair creaks as Shinji shifts, reiatsu a subtle and comforting pulse in the room. Like waves lapping at a shore.

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know. Maybe for myself," Kisuke answers, but it's not really an answer at all and he knows it. He can't explain it in ways that anyone else would understand.

"Yourself?"

Kisuke shrugs, gaze wandering to the window. Bright light streams in cheerily, golden rays of dawn. They do little to pierce the darkness that fogs Kisuke's thoughts.

He was just selfish, he supposes. Wanting all of Sousuke to belong to him in the end since apparently nothing ever had. Since it had been so easy for Sousuke to abandon him. Since Kisuke had been just a pawn like everyone else. Since his existence hadn't made a difference at all.

" _You're late."_

_Kisuke just smiles as Sousuke lifts his head from where he fell asleep on the couch, obviously waiting for the blond to arrive. He's wearing little more than a sleeping robe, a dark shade of blue that complements his complexion perfectly. It gapes a little to reveal the firm, muscled tan of his chest._

" _Sorry," Kisuke apologizes sincerely. "There was an issue with one of the labs."_

" _Something exploded?" Sousuke questions with a quirked brow, rising to his feet and hiding his yawn behind a palm._

" _Something like that."_

_Kisuke hums agreeably, letting his captain's haori slide off his shoulders and to the floor. He feels incredibly tired, reiatsu sluggishly stirring in response to Sousuke's presence but doing little else._

_Strong fingers grip his shoulders then. Thumbs dig into the muscles of his upper back, and Kisuke groans, melting into the touch. His head rolls, eyes slipping closed in pleasure. He can feel Sousuke's presence behind him, even as the vice-captain's hands work their magic._

" _You're tense," Sousuke murmurs, voice a welcome purr in Kisuke's ears, his warmth so near._

" _Not just in my shoulders either," Kisuke returns with a soft smile._

_He pointedly slides a half-step backwards and further into Sousuke's arms, heat flushes through him slowly. But more than anything, he just wants to sink into that embrace. To let those arms tighten around him and hold on. But Sousuke chuckles then, and something stirs in his groin._

_The brunet's hands glide further down and land on Kisuke's side, just at the curve of his rib. "Here?"_

" _Mmm. Not quite."_

_His fingers a bare presence, Sousuke's touch shifts lower. He focuses on the blond's hips, even through the folds of his shihakushou._

" _Here?"_

_Kisuke's lips quirk. His lover is such a damn tease._

" _Almost."_

_Clever fingers dance around to the front of his hakama. One hand tugs at the ties to his obi as the other palm focuses hot against Kisuke's clothed arousal._

" _Here?" Sousuke questions, tongue touching an ear._

_Kisuke shivers and turns his head to meet Sousuke's lips with his own. And they kiss with eyes wide open and staring into another pair._

There is cool slide of metal from leather, a sword whispering softly as it leaves its scabbard. Kisuke turns his head back towards Shinji. Only to gawk at the item gleaming in the man's hands, a very familiar hilt and pommel. He aches. By Kami and all the worlds above and below, he aches just looking at the beautiful blade.

Kisuke swallows thickly over a peach-sized lump in his throat. "Why... Why didn't she disappear with him?" he demands, half-afraid to touch the silvery-blue metal as though it would turn out to be mere illusion.

Just like her former wielder.

"You know why it didn't." Shinji's tone says everything but nothing.

Something clenches inside his chest, threatening to break free, keeping him dangling on the edge. Kisuke forces his hand to move, to cradle the zanpakutou gently. And the persisting reiatsu in her is bittersweet to his senses. His own reiatsu leaps out like an eager colt. Grasping onto the lingering tendrils. Pulling them into his own self like hoarding a handful of gold. And Kisuke is instantly surrounded in Sousuke's presence. Or what remains of it.

He closes his eyes, more memories than he can separate swamping his senses – _laughter and burnt food and warm mornings and teasing touches and brown eyes and a feeling so much like_ _ **home.**_ He and Sousuke had been together for nearly a decade before his lover betrayed him. And something like that can't be so easily forgotten or abandoned. Not for Kisuke.

" _It wasn't an illusion_ ," Sousuke had said.

And Kisuke can't believe him. He _can't_. He doesn't have the strength to do that.

His fingers slide along Kyouka Suigetsu's tepid length, holding none of the warmth of her former master. But stirring at his touch, heating up.

And Kisuke has a rather treasonous desire, a brief and dangerous want. He has a thought of wanting to go back in time, knows that he could devise a way if he really and truly tried. Of wanting to press the reset button and start all over again. Pretend that yesterday and the past one-hundred years never happened. He wants to see if it's possible for him to hold onto the past rather than let it slip through his fingers. Make a new future. Never watch the man he loves become a man Kisuke doesn't know. To make sure the monster never happens. To never let go. To clutch on for dear life.

And despite the fact that they are his friends, that they've lived and fought and laughed together for over a century… Despite all that, Kisuke knows that if he had the choice to do it over, he would leave the Vizard to die. Shinji, Lisa and Love and Rose, Kensei and Mashiro, Hachi. Even Hiyori. He would simply turn his back and pretend he never saw. That there was nothing to see. He'd simply return to his warm bed, curl around Sousuke, and sleep like the dead.

They've won. The war is over. His exile has even been lifted apparently. But he'd give it all up in an instant. If Sousuke had even given him so much as a hint all those years ago, Kisuke knows exactly what side he would've picked. And it's not the one he's on now.

It's a testament to what this man does to him. To how far he can reach into Kisuke's soul even from the grave.

And Kyouka Suigetsu burns in his hands.

"They're going to want to see it, you know," Shinji says quietly, his voice slipping into Kisuke's thoughts.

He forces his eyes open, letting the zanpakutou rest in his lap. His fingers run over the green stitching on the pommel, and he can hear both she and Benihime purr in his mind. Can feel both princesses as they twine together.

"See what?" Kisuke asks dully, not really interested.

Shinji shifts, his chin resting on his knuckles as he watches Kisuke intently. "Whatever you invented that allowed you to see the real Aizen. To see past the illusion."

The words wash into Kisuke's ear. He freezes. Head lifting slowly, creaking like gears that haven't been used in a while.

"I..." He pauses, licking once again dry lips. "There wasn't anything."

It is Shinji's turn to stare at him in surprise. "That's... That's not the sort of answer the soutaichou and Chamber 46 are gonna want to hear, Kisuke."

"It's the truth," Kisuke insists. He feels something tug and churn in his belly. "I tried. I honestly did. For the length of my exile. But without Kyouka Suigetsu to study, I couldn't create anything to combat his illusions."

Shinji's head lifts from his knuckles. "Then how did you...?"

"Maybe he wanted me to," Kisuke says with a shrug, gaze shifting to the safety of the window. "Or maybe I wanted it badly enough."

Or maybe their reiatsu was too compatible. Too used to coiling together.

"I'm more inclined to believe the former," Shinji responds with a thoughtful hum. "But what're you gonna do now, Kisuke?"

His shoulders lift again, dropping without enthusiasm. "I'm not staying here," Kisuke says and finds it strange that being here in Soul Society should feel so wrong to him.

The feel of spiritual particles surrounding him should be familiar, as well as the steady hum of reiatsu. Instead, it feels stifling. Like he can't breathe. And he wants nothing more than to return to his shouten in Karakura. To the solitude and the humans who know nothing and therefore ask no questions. Where he can be with his thoughts and memories and no one will notice or care even if they do.

"Then I won't either."

His eyes skip to Shinji in surprise. But the other man's face is painted with resolve.

"Shinji, that's not--"

Shinji cut into his denial with an easy grin, leaning back against his chair. "I can't leave ya by yourself when ya look this pathetic. What kind of friend would I be? Besides, it's not like you're planning to stay outta Soul Society forever, right?"

Kisuke isn't so sure. But for Shinji's sake he inclines his head.

"I'll return eventually."

And it might be a lie; it might be the truth. He doesn't really know. Doesn't care.

It'd taken him a century to figure out just how he was going to face Sousuke, and in the end, he still acted on impulse. To return to the place where they'd been together? That will take much, much longer.

Maybe forever.

_Sousuke's lips twitch towards a smile, fingers dragging down a thigh. "I.."_

" _Yes," Kisuke presses, and his tone is teasing but thoughts perfectly serious._

" _I... find you interesting," Sousuke finishes, the pads of his fingers tickling behind Kisuke's knee and making his leg twitch._

_It takes all of his effort not to pout at the response he hadn't expected. Even if he still rather enjoys hearing it._

" _That was so mean."_

_Brown eyes, unshielded by glasses, twinkle with amusement. "It's nothing but the truth, my dear. I find you interesting." Sousuke's mouth falls, and his lips press to Kisuke's chest. "I find you enlightening," he adds against the blond's skin, dragging his mouth toward a collarbone with a nibble._

_This time, Kisuke does pout. "Maw, Sousuke. You sound like you only want me for my mind."_

_A tongue touches his skin, dancing upwards to the sensitive cove at the side of his throat. A kiss follows._

" _I find you--"_

" _\--ravishing?" Kisuke suggests. A purr builds in his chest as the warmth of another body covers him, and they rub together quite nicely._

_Sousuke chuckles against his throat. "That, too."_

_His hand smooths back over Kisuke's knee and thigh, heading to more interesting territory and prompting his lover to tilt his hips hopefully. Lifting a hand, the blond drags his fingers down Sousuke's back, tracing the line of his spine. He feels a few ridged scars – another something he's never asked about. Sousuke rumbles at that, lips seeking out Kisuke's for a stirring kiss. But Kisuke won't be deterred with an erotic distraction. At least, not completely._

" _But do you love me?" he asks against the brunet's mouth, his tongue dragging over his own lips._

_There is a pause as Sousuke pulls back._

" _Do you really need me to say it?"_

_There's an edge of something in his voice. Hurt perhaps. As though Kisuke has just screamed to the world that he doesn't trust him when by this point it's so damn obvious that Kisuke does. With his life even. His soul._

_Kisuke tilts his head back, grey eyes meeting his lover's directly. "Sometimes, it's nice to hear," he admits softly and with a tilt of his head._

_Fingers drag down the length of his arousal. And Sousuke presses a kiss to his jaw, the motion a lot like a nuzzle. He lingers there, forehead brushing Kisuke's cheek. And his words when they come are a whisper._

" _And sometimes, it's nice to know without words."_

* * *


	3. Burning in the Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisuke wakes from a memory, wondering what's truth, what's lie, and if he'll ever forget either of them.

_The sound of a lock clicking into place is what makes Kisuke blink and glance up from the stack of paperwork he's been bent over for the past few hours. He swears something in his neck creaks as he forces his head up, brow lifting in surprise at the sight of Aizen-fukutaichou standing in front of his door. He looks perfectly innocent. As though he hasn't just been caught stepping into a superior's office and locking the door behind him._

" _Aizen-fukutaichou?" Kisuke greets and is surprised by how hoarse his voice sounds. He swears all his muscles groan as he sits up, forcing his fingers to unfurl from around the brush as he leans back in his chair, back popping like an old man. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"_

_One dark eyebrow lifts in disbelief as the vice-captain approaches his desk with lips curled in a faint smile. "It's lunchtime, Urahara-taichou. Or haven't you noticed?"_

_Come to think of it, the twelfth division has been sounding rather quiet in the past few minutes. The lack of noise has only been a small blip on the edge of Kisuke's mind. He's been far too focused on these supply requisitions, disciplinary notes, and weekly updates on the progress of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute for the captain-commander. Still, his stomach chooses that moment to grumble weakly, sounding as though it had been complaining for quite some time and Kisuke has only just noticed._

" _Ah, so it is," he replies and tilts his head to the side, looking up at the brunet with amusement coloring his tone. "Hirako didn't ask you out to lunch?"_

_Aizen – or Sousuke rather, they are alone right now after all – leans forward. His hands plant flat on Kisuke's desktop so that they are almost eye to eye, despite the furniture between them._

" _I would've ended up treating him if he had. I snuck out the back while Sarugaki-fukutaichou was distracting him."_

_Kisuke laughs, thinking of the volatile relationship between his second seat and Hirako. They are much like siblings, constantly at odds but loyal to one another._

" _So you came here instead?"_

_Sousuke leans forward and reaches for his free hand, fingers stroking over the inside of Kisuke's wrists. He does that for a full minute without making a verbal response. Just ghosting his fingertips over skin and sending a chill down the captain's spine._

" _Kisuke," Sousuke finally murmurs._

_And just the sound of his name in that tone, that voice, makes Kisuke shiver._

" _Kisuke… your division has all gone to lunch."_

" _How convenient," the blond comments and lets the heat curling through his body show in his eyes. He's hungry, yes, but food can wait. The hunger building in him is now of a different sort. "I don't recall properly making this office mine."_

_It is Sousuke's turn to laugh, rich and full, as he slowly brings a hand to his lips. First kissing a palm and then drawing a finger into his mouth, warm tongue flicking over the single digit. It brings to mind other places Sousuke's tongue could be useful, and Kisuke shifts in his seat. He feels himself grow within the confines of his hakama._

" _What did you have in mind?" Sousuke questions, breath a warm puff over Kisuke's spit damp fingers._

_He licks his lips pointedly. "It involves you circling my desk, for one thing," Kisuke suggests, voice thick with rising desire. He clears his throat noisily._

" _I think I can manage that," the brunet allows, humor dancing in his eyes behind those clunky glasses._

_Without losing his grip, he moves around the desk. Kisuke turns in his chair to face him and looks up to meet Sousuke's eyes._

" _That's better," Kisuke whispers and reaches up with his free hand, curling fingers in the front of Sousuke's shihakushou and gently pulling him down._

_He sees Sousuke smile before their mouths collide, Sousuke teasing with his tongue before deepening the kiss. Fingers stroke slowly over Kisuke's wrist. A touch that for all its innocence, sparks sexual tension through his entire body. Visions of all the things they could be doing in this office pour through him and fill him with heat. Sousuke's free hand curls against the side of his neck, thumb gliding over his throat as he pulls back._

" _I think we could stand to properly initiate your desk, don't you?"_

_Kisuke groans deep in his throat at the thought. He glances once at the paperwork he's been working on since the wee hours of the morning. Apparently, it's something of a necessity to the captain-commander, and he isn't pleased that Kisuke has been ignoring it._

" _It can wait," Sousuke says, and his lips brush Kisuke's, a tantalizing tease. "I might even be convinced to help you."_

_What exactly he planned to_ _**help** _ _is a lingering promise between them._

Kisuke wakes to a startling blackness, only a thin stream of light peeking through the blinds of his room. It's still dark outside, still nighttime, the middle of the night. Once again, dreams of the past have kept him from finishing the night in sleep.

Kisuke curls on his side and tucks a hand under his cheek, closing his eyes to linger in the last images of his dream, the lingering sensations. There's a wetness, a heat, burning at the back of his lids, but he swallows it down over a lump in his throat. If his fingers are trembling, he pretends not to notice.

He won't be getting any more sleep tonight. Kisuke knows this already. Four hours seems to be the maximum before the memories get too much. He wonders if this is Sousuke's final revenge, forever tormenting his one-time lover with the past and the future that should have been and all that Kisuke has slain with his own hands.

He doesn't have to look to see the zanpakutou lying on the floor next to his futon, carefully placed right next to Benihime. Kisuke reaches out a free hand, lays his fingers over the sheaths of both blades, feels an answering pulse from each. Kyouka Suigetsu should have no reiatsu, no pulse, no life. But she vibrates under his fingers, hums and resonates in tune with Benihime.

That irritating heat again banks at his eyes, and Kisuke keeps his lids firmly shut. Concentrates on sensation instead. The cool smoothness of the sheaths. The lingering trace of reiatsu. The fragrance of the laundry detergent on his sheets and an underlying smell that seems to come with him everywhere he goes. A scent from the past that stubbornly lingers.

It's been weeks, months, half a year, and Kisuke hasn't forgotten. Not a single moment, not a single memory. He closes his eyes and still feels the warm stickiness of blood on his hands. He still sees the last look in Sousuke's eyes. Still feels the way his own heart betrayed him, wishing for this man's words to be the truth.

Kisuke hates that he still believes.

He can't help but wonder how much of their past was a lie, a falsity, something meant to gain his trust. The same mask and persona Aizen Sousuke wielded for everyone else, the same that Kisuke was treated to. How far did he go in his pursuit of godhood? Who else had he spun into his seductive web? Was breaking Kisuke part of the plan or just an unexpected bonus?

The blond swallows over another lump in his throat and forces himself to sit up, casting the covers aside and situating his robe around his body. He'll do no good lingering in bed, waiting for a rest that won't come. Thinking in circles, over and over, doubting himself and the past and the things he wants to believe but shouldn't. He doesn't know what would be better in the long run. Not anymore.

Without thinking of the whys, Kisuke tucks both Benihime and Kyouka Suigetsu into the sash of his nemaki and pads softly out of his room, opening the door to a quiet, dim hallway. Years in the second division have taught him ways of moving around in the dark, but he is drawn to the spray of light coming from the kitchen. Along with the persistent aroma of freshly brewed tea.

" _What is it?"_

_The captain hums, examining the strange substance currently cradled in the palm of his hand. "I'm not entirely sure yet. I meant it to make us stronger, and it does that, but not quite the way I expected."_

_Sousuke's eyes seem all the brighter as he stares. "Stronger? Why?"_

" _Why not?" Kisuke shrugs and turns, setting the orb he had created – still nameless – back into the stand. A light pulse of power dances on the end of his fingertips and briefly connects him to it before he pulls back. "Isn't that the nature of a human being to constantly seek more power? And isn't it the nature of the scientist to strive to break down preconceived barriers?"_

_Sousuke inclines his head, leaning forward to examine the orb in its resting place. Seemingly fascinated by the play of light against the quartz-like substance._

" _You are brilliant."_

_The blond feels himself flush before he can stop the embarrassing reaction. He's not so modest that he doesn't acknowledge his own intelligence. But it sounds different and_ _**feels** _ _different, when coming from Sousuke somehow. He doesn't need to be validated by this man's approval, but he likes it nonetheless._

" _What will be even more brilliant is if I can figure out a way to properly harness its abilities," Kisuke replies, trying to hide the warm flutters in his belly. "Until then, it's nothing more than decoration."_

" _Even so, you're already one step closer to your goal," Sousuke comments and leans back to focus on him. "Not many people can say that."_

_Kisuke resists the urge to preen. Instead, he lifts a hand, tangling his fingers in strands of brown hair to drag Sousuke in for a kiss. It's not so much that no one has ever believed in him before or that he's never had any support because that would a lie. Yoruichi wouldn't have put him up for the position of captain if she hadn't believed in him. But there's something to be said about hearing the words from the mouth of your lover. Something immeasurable._

_It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen into more. For Sousuke's arm to slide around the blond's waist as he pulls them together. For Kisuke himself to grip onto Sousuke's shihakushou, well aware that this is his private laboratory and that there's little – if any – chance of someone walking in on them._

_For now, Kisuke's new invention sits to the side, forgotten, in the wake of far more pleasurable pursuits._

"Hey."

He blinks out of the memory and stares into the kitchen. Kisuke is reasonably surprised to find that Shinji is awake, fingers curled around a warm mug, blinking sleepily as he stares off into the distance. Eyes flicker his direction and notice him immediately.

"Couldn't sleep?" Shinji drawls in a hoarse voice, gesturing to the empty seat at the table.

"Something like that," the younger man answers and helps himself to the sweet-smelling tea, glad that Shinji has already brewed some and he doesn't have to risk making some for himself. "Why are you awake?"

Shinji shrugs, taking another pointed sip of his tea. "Even someone like me has nightmares."

Nightmares.

Kisuke is all too familiar with those. Only his don't take the form of corpses and battle and blood and pain. They are an agony of a different sort. They are visions of a blissful past that have become tainted by the truth of the present. Kisuke almost wishes he could wake up screaming, terrified and guilty like so many others, as opposed to waking with this hole in his chest and a growing sense of emptiness.

He inclines his head and takes a seat, letting the strong aroma of the tea – chamomile he guesses – waft toward him. It's just enough to chase away enduring memories of Sousuke's scent that refuse to leave him alone. He's still convinced it must be Sousuke's last revenge of some kind, some way that Kyouka Suigetsu is carrying her master's final wishes. Why else would she have remained after his death? Why else would she allow Kisuke to be the only one to bear her?

"Ya couldn't have saved him, ya know."

Shinji's voice cuts through the silence. His eyes watch his friend, so knowingly, and Kisuke hates the pity he sees there. Just as much as he's glad someone cares enough to pity him.

"I never even considered it."

Shinji scoffs behind his cup. "Liar."

Kisuke sighs. He taps a finger on the table for a second before moving his hands to his lap.

"He didn't think of himself as needing saving. And I can't honestly say he was wrong either," he explains.

Shinji works his jaw for a moment. "Now that one yer goin' ta have ta explain ta me."

"His methods were a little overzealous and destructive, but his goals… his goals are not beyond my understanding," Kisuke says and finds the fingers of his free hand quietly stroking over Kyouka Suigetsu's hilt. She seems to thrum in agreement with him, a pleasant and warm hum perfectly in tune with Benihime.

"So what?" Shinji shifts, and a frown twists his mouth. "Yer goin' ta finish his work fer him?"

Kisuke shakes his head. "I have no desire for godhood. Even I can see that it would've destroyed the delicate balance we maintain."

He won't ever admit aloud, however, that he has considered it on occasion. A god has no limitations; the power is completely unsurpassed. Kisuke could accomplish things he can't as a mere mortal or Shinigami. He could _fix_ the things he's broken.

He could see Sousuke again. Ask all the questions that still simmer in the back of his mind, burn the tip of his tongue. Find out what was truth and lie, achieve some _peace._

"But he was right in other things," Kisuke adds, after realizing he has fallen strangely quiet. He clears his throat pointedly. "Soul Society's due a change."

Shinji exhales slowly, giving Kisuke a sharp look. But then, he grins.

"Phew. Ya had me worried there. For a minute, I thought his megalomania had rubbed off on you."

Kisuke's eyes narrow. "He was _not_ crazy."

"Nope. Just another guy with delusions of grandeur," Shinji comments and tosses a pointed look in Kisuke's direction, ever directly honest. "Who couldn't see the values of the things he already had."

That squeezing, pulling sensation in his chest returns. Kisuke swallows thickly.

"I'm only Shinigami after all. What interest would I have held to a man who was to be god?"

"More than you'd think."

His friend rises to his feet, yawning noticeably and glancing at the sky beyond the kitchen window. Dawn comes swiftly, but it's not as though they have anywhere to be. Shinji pauses in the doorway on his way out, fingers tapping a nonsense rhythm on the frame.

"Fer what it's worth, Kisuke, I don't think everything about Sou-chan was a lie. If there's anyone who saw his true self, it was you."

Kisuke snorts. An attempt at disbelief but more or less an action to conceal the stab of hope that slashes through him. Shinji leaves him alone to his tea with a murmured goodnight. Kisuke sits and stares into the distance, sipping quietly at the chamomile, trying to erase memories of the past that refuse to go away.

_Sousuke laughs. "You can't make that move. It's against the rules."_

_The captain twists his jaw stubbornly, finger still poised over his piece. "No, it's not," he argues and tilts his head to the side, looking over the board again. For all that he can see, it's a perfectly legitimate course of action. He's so close to beating Sousuke for once; he can taste it._

_Fingers cover his own as Sousuke gently slides the piece back to its former position. "No, you_ _**can't** _ _," he repeats patiently. "This is not a ranging piece. It's a knight, which means-"_

" _-that it can only jump at an angle," Kisuke cuts in, tone frustrated as he concedes that Sousuke is indeed right._

_Drat. In his eagerness for victory, he'd forgotten a key point._

" _I remember."_

" _Just making sure," the vice-captain returns and lifts his hand, running fingers through his hair that's lying loose around his face. "So I'll pretend I didn't see that move, and you can try again."_

_Kisuke sniffs, sitting back in his chair. "Don't give me any favors. I can take my licks as they are owed. Make your move."_

_It irks sometimes that Sousuke is by all accounts younger than him but Kisuke is often the one who is more childlike._

_Smiling to himself as though amused, the brunet proceeds to do just that. "You are improving," he states as a piece clicks across the board, effectively boxing Kisuke in place. He never gives the blond any leeway for his amateur status, and for that, Kisuke is grateful._

" _Not fast enough," the captain grumbles and eyes the board intensely. He's sure there's still some way he can turn this around to his advantage._

_He leans forward, eyes moving from piece to piece, looking for the perfect move that will grant him a victory. Mind considering possibility after possibility, thinking steps ahead of himself, picturing Sousuke's defeat._

_And then a hand reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and lingering with a very distracting touch. The blond startles, looks up, and gets a glimpse of Sousuke's eyes before a mouth descend over his. Kisuke's first thought isn't even to protest, as much as it is to participate. Sousuke's lips are warm and inviting, and Kisuke is the first to introduce tongue, despite the awkward nature of the kiss with the game board stretching perilously between them._

" _That is an unfair move, Aizen-fukutaichou," Kisuke murmurs into the kiss, all tactics effectively tossed out the window._

_Sousuke chuckles, a warm puff of breath over Kisuke's mouth. "All part of my strategy, my dear."_

" _Cheater," Kisuke mumbles, but it's half-hearted at best._

_He's not really interested in the game. Not anymore._

* * *

* * *


	4. Iridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want most?" As if there was ever any doubt.

_White._

_Everywhere that Kisuke looks, he sees nothing but white._

_White walls, white floors, white ceilings. The whole structure feels almost seamless. Lit by an equally white light that brightens the entire building, chasing away all the shadows except for the ones trailing behind him. His geta sound all too loud in the echoing silence, a clack-clack that disturbs the crypt-like quiet. His skin crawls with it, the utter emptiness and the subtle pulsing of reiatsu in the very walls around him._

_He's in a place composed of spirit particles, a place not of the living world. Kisuke might almost think himself in Seireitei, except this building resembles nothing he's seen in all of Soul Society._

_Kisuke has no idea where he's going, but his feet seem to know the way without explanation. He glances down at himself – he's clothed all in white, outfit similar to his usual dress save for the change of color. There's a sword at his side, not Benihime but still painfully familiar nonetheless. His fingers brush the green hilt, and Kyouka Suigetsu hums against his skin._

_Kisuke is a genius, but it doesn't take one to put two and two together. He's in Hueco Mundo. Not only that but Las Noches in Hueco Mundo, a place he's never been physically but has heard described countless times. His imagination has done a good job of conjuring up what it must resemble._

" _Why are you showing me this?" he whispers._

_But there's no one to answer, no one listening. Still, when Kyouka Suigetsu pulses at his side, Kisuke can't quite chase the feeling there's a purpose in him being here._

_He continues down countless hallways, through a literal labyrinth of corridors and rooms. Up stairs and down stairs, around sharp corners, from one doorway to the next. Kisuke's head is spinning from the constant change of direction, but there's a sensation in his chest, growing and growing. Something's leading him, guiding him… **somewhere**. _

_He supposes he'll figure it out when he gets there. Nevertheless, his hand tightens around Kyouka Suigetsu's hilt. Whether friend or foe, Kisuke will be prepared._

_Then, he finds himself at an innocuous door with a simple lock that falls away when he reaches for the handle. It opens with a soft click, and the sound is an invitation as the door swings open, spilling shadow into the bright-white hallway. Surprisingly, Kisuke's not nervous or hesitant; his feet carry him forward and into the room._

_It's sparsely furnished, and by sparsely, he means that there is a single, curtainless window and a small, nondescript cabinet. The window reveals a white desert, black sky, and single pale moon. Except for the occasional whisper of wind, it's just as quiet outside as it is within._

_It's the cabinet that attracts Kisuke's attention the most. It looks as though it's been crafted from cherry wood with attractive iron embellishment. Kisuke knows he'll touch it, feel the pulse of the spirit particles that actually compose it, but it's still a handsome piece of furniture. It's the same height as him, and on closer inspection, it's locked._

_But just like the door, the lock fades away the moment Kisuke reaches forward. Kyouka Suigetsu vibrates with greater urgency at his side, making his entire body hum as if he's turned into a tuning fork._

_The doors swing outward of their own accord, and Kisuke is forced to take a step back or be smacked. The shadows in the room shift and sway, drawn toward the cabinet as though summoned, and inside is a single shelf, completely shaded. One item graces the surface, sparkling and churning out an immense power._

_Kisuke feels his throat catch, and a dream within a dream sparks in his mind. He remembers how it felt to create this thing, to hold it in his hands. He remembers Sousuke's praise; he remembers his own joy. He remembers thinking he could change the world, change anything he wanted to, if only he could harness its fathomless power._

_Kisuke stares and stares at the Hougyoku, sitting innocuous in its shadowed and dust-covered prison. Where Sousuke must have left it before the final fight. Had he felt there was no need for the Hougyoku on the battlefield? Or is there something else, something deeper at work here?_

_He doesn't know; Kisuke simply doesn't know. But his hand lifts of its own accord, reaching out as if drawn like a moth to the flame. He's not breathing, doesn't dare. His heart skips a beat and then two._

_Kisuke reaches, fingers stretching out, Kyouka Suigetsu all but singing at his side, and the chill of the shadows nip at the ends of his fingers. There's power here, and something else, something that could change things. Fix what's been broken, fix **everything**. He reaches, body trembling-_

-and wakes in a cold sweat. He stares up at a dark ceiling, eyes fixed as everything in his bedroom rattles from the force of his reiatsu. He'd lost control in his sleep, both Benihime and Kyouka Suigetsu humming in their sheaths, and Kisuke forces himself to put a clamp on his own power, to reel it in before someone grows concerned and comes to investigate. His hands are cold, his fingers are burning, and Kisuke clenches and unclenches them.

He still can't seem to breathe.

That's the fifth time in a week he's had such a dream. So vivid and sharp, as if he's actually been there. He swears he can still taste the cold sterility of Las Noches' halls and feel the bite of Hueco Mundo's desert. The sound of his footsteps in the empty corridors. The echoes of his own breathing. The rattle of Kyouka Suigetsu at his side.

Kisuke throws back the blanket and rises from his futon, pulling on a nemaki to cover up his nudity. His room is dark with nighttime, though the moon tries to peek through the tiny gaps in his blinds. Across the hall, he can feel the quiescent nature of Shinji's sleeping energy, and the whole night seems silent and still. As if even the world has paused.

There's a Hollow several miles away, pinging on the edge of Kisuke's senses. But it's extinguished before he can even contemplate going after it himself.

He feels restless, the dream playing over and over in his mind, unforgettable for its vividness. He feels like he can reach out and touch Sousuke. That there's a sound echoing in the darkness, the sound of Sousuke's breathing.

Kisuke feels a lot like he's lost his mind.

Sucking in a slow and careful inhale, he reaches for his zanpakutou, both of them, and tucks Benihime first into his obi. But when he reaches for Kyouka Suigetsu, there's a flash of reiatsu. Kisuke drops her, almost as if he'd been burned. She's all but vibrating right now, releasing subtle pulses of power that make her sheath warm and alive.

Kisuke's a man of magic and science, but not even he's sure what to make of this. The very fact that Kyouka Suigetsu still exists is a miracle in unto itself. That she would waken for his hand or on her own is another miracle entirely.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he whispers into the dark.

It does not answer. It never does. Sometimes, Kisuke swears the universe is laughing at him.

When he touches Kyouka Suigetsu again, her reiatsu has calmed. She's cold and silent once more, dormant as he lifts her to join Benihime at his side. As always, the two resonant together when reintroduced, then settle quietly.

Confused and a touch disturbed, Kisuke wanders out of his bedroom, exhausted and troubled but resigned to his fate.

o0o0o

He looks tired. Shinji says as much.

"I'm not sleeping well," Kisuke answers, sipping his tea and ignoring the massive breakfast that Shinji seems to have no trouble gobbling down. His own stomach, however, is in knots, and the very idea of eating makes him ill.

Brown eyes are solid, understanding and sympathetic. "Bad dreams?"

_White walls and white ceilings and white floors. He's been here before many, many times. His feet know the way without conscious thought. The air tastes so familiar. He feels like he can reach out and touch the stone, like the walls pulse and throb to a familiar rhythm._

Kisuke closes his eyes and breathes in the steam of his tea. "You could call them that," he murmurs and wonders if this is truly Sousuke's curse. To drive Kisuke to the point of madness. This is his punishment for killing a man he'd loved.

"Ah." Shinji nods in quiet comprehension. "Maybe we should think 'bout visitin' Soul Society again. Clear yer head. Or better yet, head ta Karakura. Ichigo probably needs a good scare."

The corners of Kisuke's mouth twitch in fond thought of his student. He thinks of Jinta and Ururu, too. Of Tessai and Yoruichi.

"Okay," Kisuke agrees and hopes that seeing them will help chase away the ghosts of the past.

He feels more than sees Shinji's surprise.

"Good," the Vizard says after recovering from the shock of Kisuke finally agreeing to something other than lingering in the consequences of his actions. "We'll go tomorrow."

o0o0o

_He's in that room again, the one with a single uncurtained window and the locked cabinet. A lock that dissolves away the moment Kisuke touches it and with a single pulse of Kyouka Suigetsu at his side. He can feel the wood this time, the fineness of the grain, the chill soaked into it._

_The entire room is throbbing, enveloped by power. Kisuke can feel it pulsing at his fingers, pressing outward in steadying waves._

_Once again, the doors swing open of their own accord, and like before, the shadows nestle around the Hougyoku, taunting Kisuke with its presence. He has only to reach out and take it._

_Why? What would that accomplish?_

_He hesitates. His hand doesn't move from his side._

" _Why?" he asks aloud, voice echoing in the otherwise empty room. "What do you want me to do?"_

_Outside the window, the wind whistles a mournful tune. A white moon in a black sky looks down at a white desert. Something howls in the distance, a wolf, and Kisuke thinks briefly of the Espada Stark before he waits for an answer._

_He created the Hougyoku. He knows the limits of its power. Or to be more precise, Kisuke knows that it_ has _no limits. It's capable of almost anything, restricted only by the imagination and the control of the user. Sousuke had been powerful enough to use the Hougyoku's full potential. Kisuke admits only to himself that he'd be lucky if it doesn't explode in his face or tear him apart when he loses control._

_But in the white light of the room, the Hougyoku twinkles and winks at him. As if daring him to touch, daring him to reach out and take that power for his own._

" _You could change so much," a tiny voice whispers in the back of his head. "All you have to do is take it."_

A warm hand covers his fingers, and he's startled from his recollections. He'd fallen into a daydream again, and in the middle of sharing a bottle of sake with Yoruichi no less.

These fugues are coming more often. How troublesome.

"Kisuke?"

He shakes his head, tries to chase away the lingering dream. "It's nothing," he lies and sips at the good, expensive sake. "How's the rebuilding going?"

Yoruichi looks at him, searches him with those impossibly beautiful eyes, before she decides it's better to drop the subject. She sighs.

"Fine. The captain-commander decided, much to Unohana-taichou's relief, that everyone will have to chip in and not just the fourth division alone."

Kisuke nods slowly, as though interested in the affairs of Soul Society. But really, his mind is drifting back to that dream. To the taunting existence of the Hougyoku.

His brow furrows, and he clears his throat noisily. "Did they ever find it?"

"Find what?" She sounds confused. She should. Kisuke didn't even bother to segue into the question normally.

"The Hougyoku." He tries not to let his yearning show in his voice; it seems to work.

Yoruichi shakes her head, slow and thoughtful. "Las Noches is rubble. No one's alive who might be able to tell us where Aizen hid it. Frankly, I think it's better that some things stay buried."

But her eyes are filled with pity. For him.

Hiding behind his cup, Kisuke crushes down a tiny sprig of hope that dares bud to life in the wake of Sousuke's war. He wishes for impossible things, to turn back time and so on. There are so many things he regrets, and so many things he'd never change. Funny how the two are starting to become jumbled up, mixed together, until he's not sure which is better to have.

"Kisuke."

He's wandered into his thoughts again. So much for coming to Soul Society to clear his thoughts.

He looks up guiltily.

Yoruichi's giving him that pitying look. There's something to her eyes, even if her words are strong.

"Please don't become so trapped by the past that you forget us in the present."

His lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, but even he can tell it's a hollow thing. "Was that a pearl of wisdom from the great Yoruichi-sama? I don't think I've ever heard you so serious."

"I can be wise sometimes. When I feel like it." She grins at him, punching him in the shoulder, her idea of affection.

Kisuke chuckles, and for a minute, it feels just like old times. He thinks if he concentrates, he can even forget.

' _Just a little bit more_ ,' he tells himself.

If only that were true.

o0o0o

" _You should take it."_

_The voice comes from behind him, achingly familiar, making Kisuke's stomach flip and his heart skip several beats. He wants to turn around and look but fears that doing so will make Sousuke disappear. So his hands fist at his sides, and he stares at the Hougyoku, charmingly quiescent in its wooden cage._

" _Why?"_

" _Why else?" Sousuke's voice is rich with humor and promise. He sounds just like the man Kisuke remembers, the one from before betrayal and madness. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"_

_Kisuke's breath catches. The curiosity burns inside of him._

_Oh, he's curious. So curious that he's fighting himself now. Fear is there, too. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what this dream means. For himself, for the future. What it says about him as a person. What he's willing to sacrifice._

" _A little," he admits on an exhale. "What will happen?"_

" _It depends."_

_There's a flutter of movement, a whisper of a touch against his shoulders. The ghostly impression of Sousuke's hands. The phantom brush of his breath across Kisuke's right ear._

" _What do you want most?"_

_Kisuke swallows over a lump in his throat._

_Kyouka Suigetsu burns at his side._

_o0o0o  
_

Shinji finds him standing at the window, staring up at a moonless sky that seems almost black. There are stars, of course, but still, it's probably the closest to a Hueco Mundo night that Kisuke will ever see anywhere else.

"What's goin' on?" Shinji demands, blunt as always, quick to the point.

He shivers, cold despite the heat blasting at them from the furnace. "What do I want most?" Kisuke whispers.

Since really, at this point, there's little that Shinji doesn't know. He's the only one Kisuke can trust.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Kisuke shakes his head, rubbing his right elbow with his left hand. "Sousuke asked me that. What I wanted most. Whatever it is… the Hougyoku can give it to me."

Shinji's stare burns between his shoulder blades. "Yer not thinkin' of goin' ta Hueco Mundo, are ya?"

"I don't see where I have a choice," Kisuke comments with eyes searching the heavens, as though the door to the Hollow world will suddenly appear just for him. "I think I'm losing my mind."

"Not that ya were ever particularly sane in the first place," Shinji mutters, and there's a ruffle of fabric as he moves to stand at Kisuke's side. "Ya really think it's there?"

"If it's not, then I'm being haunted by the lover I killed in some sort of sick revenge scheme," Kisuke says bitterly. "Because that's the only other rational explanation I can think of."

Shinji tilts his head back, looks up at the same sky that has captivated his friend. "If you say so," he puts in with a shrug. "But I'm goin' with ya."

"Shinji-"

The Vizard holds up a hand, lips twisted in a smirk, full of confidence. Kisuke wonders when he lost his.

"I've stuck by ya this long. Might as well see where it takes me."

Gratitude mixes with shame mixes with disquiet until Kisuke isn't sure which he'd rather have on his face.

"If you must," he says quietly and returns his attention to the sky.

There's nothing there but a bunch of stars.

o0o0o

Hueco Mundo is stark and silent, smelling of death and disuse as Kisuke steps foot onto the white sands. A billow of dust curls around him, but it quickly settles. Behind him echoes another step, Shinji following, and then, the Garganta closes, surrendering them to the silence.

"Che. I don't like this place," Shinji mutters.

Kisuke, hand on Kyouka Suigetsu, can feel her tremble. "It's this way," he insists without hesitation, going forward, always forward.

What else can he do?

Shinji's stare scratches over his spine, but the Vizard doesn't question him. Some day, Kisuke's going to have to thank Shinji for this. No one else would've been insane enough to stand by Urahara Kisuke as he slowly lost his grasp on reality.

Kisuke's never been here himself. Even during Aizen's war, Kisuke had never set foot in Hueco Mundo. He has nothing but his instincts and the push of Kyouka Suigetsu to tell him where to go. But when he and Shinji climb the next rise in a burst of shunpo and the ruins of Las Noches come into view, something inside of him gives a leap of hope.

He pauses, there on the hill, and looks down at the shattered remains of Aizen Sousuke's ambition. The towers have all crumpled, save one, and even it's pockmarked with holes and barely keeping up its fight against gravity. The dome has mostly caved in with only one column left clinging stubbornly to the roof. There's evidence of explosions everywhere, and the whole building radiates reiatsu, lingering traces from the months-ago battle. This close, it is gigantic. Surely greater than even Seireitei itself.

Shinji whistles. "I wonder what it looked like before Ichigo and his buddies went on a rampage," he muses aloud. "Well, I can't say that Sou-kun never had any taste."

"There was a dome," Kisuke says softly, the image burned in his mind. He's never been here before, but he _knows_ , somehow he knows. "Five towers perched on top of it. There was a ring of towers around the wall, too. And hallways throughout the complex, all capable of being shifted around. It was… beautiful."

"I'm not even gonna ask how ya know that," Shinji retorts flatly. "Though a part of me really, really wants ta. I'm gonna refrain fer the sake of my sanity."

Kyouka Suigetsu rattles. She pulses warmly at his side, urging him onward.

"You're right,' Kisuke says with a sad smile. "You wouldn't want to know. Hell, I'm not even sure why I know."

He doesn't wait for Shinji to answer, sliding into shunpo from one step to the next, each flash bringing him closer to the massive walls of Las Noches. Or what's left of them anyway. Kisuke doesn't even have to look for a gate; he just enters at the nearest hole in the wall and steps right into a white corridor, dusted black from battle.

The hallway branches to the left and right. Without hesitating, Kisuke turns to the left, following the twisting, turning corridors. They slope downward, but passing windows assure him he's still above ground. He doesn't know where he's going; he's just following the subtle push of Kyouka Suigetsu. That and the lingering echoes of what had been in his dream.

He passes empty rooms. Some of them used for training, others obvious living quarters, a few swept clean, more still full of debris, as though they'd been ransacked.

"They never found all the Espada, ya know," Shinji says, probably more to fill the silence than for any real interest in conversation. "That lunk Yammy slithered into the shadows, a bleeding mess. Ichigo didn't finish off that Grimmjow guy, so no one knows what happened to him. The first Espada vanished, too."

"I doubt they're here," Kisuke murmurs and abruptly adjusts course, turning into an adjoining hall. This one climbs upwards, but it feels so uncomfortably familiar.

"Why not?"

This place smells like death and abandonment, which isn't all that different from the rest of Hueco Mundo, but still… it'd be foolish.

Kisuke doesn't say that, however. He just chooses another corridor, seemingly at random, and then a third. His heart quickens its rhythm inside his chest.

"Do ya even know where yer going?"

Kisuke feels himself break into a sweat, though not from exertion. This is so painfully, uncomfortably familiar.

"No," he says and turns another corner, then another, one right after the next. Skirting around collapsed walls and the lingering evidence of battle.

In his wake, Shinji's reiatsu is a nervous wobble. "Kisuke, yer startin' ta scare me."

And he must really be feeling it to even admit that much. Shinji was never afraid through Hollows or Espada or betrayal or turning into a monster. But his breath has a slight flutter now, and he clenches his hands to find a tremble.

Kisuke swallows. "To be honest, I'm scaring myself," he admits, geta an echoing clack-clack on the white, white walls and the white, white floors. He swears he can hear Sousuke whispering just around the next bend.

"Good," Shinji murmurs as they pick up speed. "Then at least we're on the same page."

In his haste, Kisuke almost misses it, the narrow corridor that branches off at an angle. He has to stop, turn around, and slide into the hallway, heart beating faster and faster. Kyouka Suigetsu is all but singing now, and Kisuke knows what he's going to find. He feels it down in his marrow, in the quivering center of him where he has always felt his reiatsu the strongest.

And there it is. The door from his dreams, no different from any of the others on the corridor, but Kisuke can feel Kyouka Suigetsu humming at his side. He reaches for the handle, one hand on her hilt, and the knob turns with no resistance whatsoever. If it'd even been locked, Kisuke can't tell.

A hand falls on his wrist, not harshly, just reminding him of Shinji's presence. "I'm not sure we should go in there," he says lowly, eyes worried, face drawing into a wrinkled frown that Kisuke doesn't think he's ever seen before.

"I have to," Kisuke replies and pulls open the door, meeting no resistance.

Shinji had only meant to warn him, after all. He knows better than to actually try and stop Kisuke.

It's dim inside, just like in his dreams, and the room is empty save for a single cherry-wood cabinet and the uncurtained window. Through it, he can see the same dead tree with the same three branches. Part of Kisuke is a little afraid. He swallows over a lump in his throat, walking toward the cabinet that seems to pulse with an inner throb.

"Kisuke?"

"It's here," he breathes, reaching for the handles, running his fingers over the smooth wood. It's cool to the touch, but warms under his skin.

Again, there's no lock, nothing to stop Kisuke from looking inside. That's the only difference from his dream. It's not enough to make him hesitate.

The doors open outward, revealing a single shelf and a single item resting on it, twinkling innocuously in the dim light. The Hougyoku.

" _What do you want most?"_ Sousuke's voice whispers in the back of his mind, warm and seductive.

"This is what you wanted to show me," Kisuke murmurs as he stares at the Hougyoku, the single item that could change everything, change the world. All he has to do is take it.

"Kisuke?"

He startles. He'd almost forgotten that Shinji is here, too.

"I wonder if he planned this," Kisuke says aloud. He stares at the Hougyoku, one hand wrapped firmly around Kyouka Suigetsu's hilt, a spare finger brushing across Benihime as well. "If this was why she stayed."

There is a single step, a whisper of shoes against the sterile white floor. "Kisuke, what are ya doin'?"

"What I have to," Kisuke says, and he doesn't look at Shinji. "This is the part where I say thank you and then I'm sorry because I'm probably going to strand you here."

Shinji scoffs. "Don't be stupid. Ya think I came here without a backup plan?"

A slow smile curls Kisuke's lips. "Good. One less thing for me to feel guilty about."

He's within reach of the Hougyoku, and Kisuke swears he can feel a presence behind him, not Shinji's, but still familiar. Warm and comfortable, a brief brush of warm air over his ear. Reiatsu that pulses at his skin. A voice that whispers in his ear.

" _You should take it."_

"I know better than ta stop ya," Shinji says, softer this time. Resigned. "But, ya know, I'm not the only one who'll miss ya."

For only a moment, a startling heartbeat, Kisuke's resolve falters. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and makes his choice.

Who's he kidding? He made his choice a long time ago. From the moment he stabbed Sousuke in the back and watched his blood rain down. Nothing's going to change it now.

" _It wasn't an illusion," Sousuke murmurs, reaching for him. Eyes impossibly soft and forgiving._

"I don't know what's going to happen." Kisuke's shoulders straighten, and his face sets. "It might be safer if you left the room."

Reiatsu fills the area, but it's not just Kisuke's. It's not Shinji's either. It's suffocatingly familiar, seeking to twine with Kisuke's own. It shouldn't be possible, but here, it is.

"I won't," Shinji inserts, stubborn to the end.

Shinji is a better friend than he deserves. A better man than he'll ever be.

Kisuke feels a smile curl his lips. "If you insist." He takes a breath, looks at the Hougyoku, seemingly innocent and yet brimming with power.

" _What do you want most?"_

A small smile curls the corner of Kisuke's lips. "You know me better than anyone. What do you think?" he says so quietly that it carries no further than his ears.

There is no answer, but then, Kisuke doesn't expect anyone.

He lifts his hand, Kyouka Suigetsu warm and pulsing at his side, and Kisuke reaches for the Hougyoku. It has the power to change the world, and all he has to do is take it.

* * *

 

* * *


End file.
